There's Vogel, he thought. The surgeon wielding his tools. Complex dark many-tendriled machine loomed up over me. Yes.
Vogel is whispering something to someone now; I can't quite catch it.
They lower something over my face. Sweet, too sweet; I breathe deeply.
I sleep. Time passes.
Harker floated gently, guiding himself with his arms, travelling lightly down a river of radiant brightness. No weight. No sensations. Only the endless lovely bath of color, and the distant rumble of thunder.
This is heaven, he thought pleasantly. Not a bad place at all.
Timeless, voiceless, airless, lifeless. A kaleidoscope of blues and violets overhead. I am pure energy, he thought, unfettered by the ties of flesh.
This is the kingdom of death. There was the odor of lilies somewhere, a cool sweet white smell. I, James Harker, being of sound mind—
A golden flame, child-sized, soared near him in the nothingness. It's Eva, he thought. Hello, Eva. Don't you remember your dad?
The golden flame swooped laughingly past him and was gone. Harker felt a momentary pang, but it too passed on; this was heaven, where there was no sadness.